


Comfort in the Dark

by amyfortuna



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, Bittersweet Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fade to Black, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the night they meet, five times Aragorn and Frodo comfort each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamiflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/gifts).



It was a long night. Aragorn sat in the room's only chair by the window, watching as the Riders invaded the Prancing Pony. Their shrieks and howls frightened the Hobbits, but told the Ranger that they were indeed safe here. The Nazgul could not trace the Ring precisely, and it would be safe so long as they did not know where it was. 

Before long, the Ringwraiths fled from the town into the night, and a wave of relief went over the room. "Sleep now," Aragorn said. "Sleep while you may, for we have a long journey ahead of us, with few comforts." 

Merry was the first to slip down into the bed where they had all been huddling with their backs against the headboard. Pippin followed with almost no hesitation, throwing an arm over Merry. Sam gave Frodo a worried look. "Will you be all right, sir?" he asked. 

"I'll be fine, Sam," Frodo said calmly, although Aragorn noticed that he did not relax from the tense position he was sitting in on the end of the bed. "I'll take the other bed with...Strider, here, if he is not averse to sharing with me." 

Aragorn blinked back the surprise from his eyes. "I thought to let you sleep in peace," he said. "I can do well enough in this chair." 

"Did you not just say something about a long journey ahead?" Frodo asked, shaking his head. "If you intend to protect and guide us, you will need your sleep as much as we do." 

Aragorn could not resist Frodo's logic, and gave him a grim smile. "Very well, then," he said, and stood up, drawing the curtains closed. Frodo stood as well, leading the way to the other bed at the opposite end of the room. Sam slid down underneath the covers, but his eyes followed them across the room, until they were both settled in the bed and Frodo blew out the candle. 

Frodo was warm for all he was so small, and Aragorn could barely resist curling up around him and soaking up his heat, warm as a summer's day in the Shire. He settled for placing a hand over Frodo's waist - it was truthfully the easiest way to lie in the bed that was large for Hobbits but small for Men. Frodo almost immediately scooted back until they were lying spooned together; as eager, it seemed, to snuggle up to Aragorn as Aragorn was to cuddle him close. 

It took a while for Aragorn to drop off to sleep. The rest of the hobbits, despite the frightening events of the evening, could be heard snoring fairly quickly, but Frodo was restless, his breathing quick as though he feared sleep. 

Aragorn, almost unconsciously, nearly asleep, began stroking him and murmuring to him as he would have a frightened horse. "Shh, the danger is past for now," he breathed, then trailed off into lines of half-chanted Elvish lullabies that Frodo only half understood. Frodo found the clutching fear that had been clinging to him slowly fading, like hoofbeats in the distance, and fell asleep with Aragorn's arm around him and his heartbeat, slow and steady, reassuring Frodo that all was well. 

\----

Once they reached Rivendell, the days of Frodo's convalescence were long, and after the Council took place, he was weary indeed. The thought of the Quest ahead was daunting rather than exciting, as if some echo of the hard way ahead was rippling back to warn him that the future would be dark. 

Only the courage of his friends - Sam, Merry, Pippin - and Aragorn - seemed to give him strength. They were not daunted. Frodo told himself it was because Sam, Merry, and Pippin were merely ignorantly bold, but that could not be said of Strider, who had been walking the lands they were to venture into for more years than Frodo had been alive. 

As the sunset faded beyond the Western horizon, Aragorn came to find him. "Will you not join the feasting tonight?" he asked, laying a hand next to Frodo's on the balcony. 

Frodo shook his head, suppressing a yawn. "I just want to sleep," he said. 

Aragorn covered his hand with his own. "Then come with me," he said, and Frodo turned his hand to take hold of Aragorn's. "We will find you food and rest." 

Frodo, a short while later, sat in comfort on the edge of a low cushioned seat as two Elves brought in food. Aragorn thanked them in their own language, and they answered him in the same tongue, laughing, then departed. There was warm bread with butter, and a delicious, heartening, broth, along with fresh fruit, and Frodo ate slowly, conscious all the while of Aragorn's warmth at his side, though they did not speak much during the meal. 

When they were finished, Aragorn stood. "I should leave you to your rest," he said, making as if to turn toward the door, obviously reluctant. 

"Stay," Frodo said, reaching out a hand. "If you wish to."

Aragorn gave him a slight smile. "I do." 

The nightclothing set out for Frodo was somewhat too large: an elf-child's simple white dressing gown. After so many days on the road with Aragorn he felt little shyness, merely turning his back while shedding his clothing and donning the garment. 

Aragorn also undressed, down to his smallclothes, and was reclining on the bed, covers thrown back, when Frodo climbed in. It was not cold in the room, so Frodo drew up only the light cotton sheet over them, and snuggled close, smiling when Aragorn responded by embracing him. 

After a moment of warmth and peace, Frodo felt unwonted energy stealing through his limbs, as if Aragorn had passed it to him through the contact of their skin. He wanted to taste Aragorn, to kiss him, and almost as if they had done it already a thousand times, raised his mouth up to press against Aragorn's. 

Aragorn gave a surprised and pleased gasp, and responded immediately to the kiss, tightening his arms about Frodo and sealing their mouths together. The kiss was warm, invigorating, and Frodo felt his whole body coming alive in a way it had not in months, all the time they had been running in fear from the Nazgul. Only the wound in his shoulder still felt cold, though it did not hurt. 

"I want you to touch me," Frodo said when the kiss broke.

"Anywhere and in any way you like," Aragorn said, and his face had softened, the grimness of his mien fading into pleased happiness. It was a good look on him. In contrast to the way he had been on the road, scruffy and unshaven, here in Frodo's bed he was clean and smelled faintly of rose oil, mingled with another fresh scent that Frodo could not quite identify. His hair was shining, no longer unwashed and lank, and his beard too was soft and freshly trimmed. 

Frodo brought his hand to Aragorn's face, brushing his hair back, and then kissed him again, slow and soft. Aragorn's hands went wandering down Frodo's back, then to the hem of the dressing gown, pulling it up and off him. Frodo lay bare before Aragorn, already hard, and Aragorn smiled in expectation. 

\-----

On the long road between Rivendell and the climb into the Misty Mountains, some of the members of the Fellowship would sleep in groups of two or three, for warmth and companionship. Merry and Pippin attached themselves to Boromir, Sam and Gimli, who had discovered a shared interest in cooking, tended to curl up together, but Gandalf, if he slept at all, did so by himself, and the elf was never seen to sleep. 

Frodo rather shamelessly approached Aragorn during their first rest period out of Rivendell, and from then on their blankets were all but combined. Frodo enjoyed the warmth of the larger Man during the long cold nights, when the Ring weighed him down, and the ever-present threat they were all under seemed unduly exhausting. Aragorn made him feel safe, was a comfort to him, and that was all that was necessary. 

The winter deepened as they climbed higher, until they were camping in snow one cold night, ready to tramp over the top of Caradhras the next day. No fire could be lit, so, following Aragorn's advice, they dug into the snow, packing it to make a shelter, and all piled into it together, even Legolas, who up until now had seemed to not even notice the weather. 

Frodo wound up lying between Aragorn and Legolas, gathered in close to Aragorn's body, while Legolas had his back to them and seemed to be spending the weary hours consoling Pippin, who could not seem to get to sleep for shivering. But Frodo was comfortable and warm, wrapped up in Aragorn's arms. 

Aragorn smiled down at him as Frodo tucked his head in against Aragorn's shoulder and closed his eyes. Before he drifted off to sleep, Frodo noticed that they were breathing in unison, slow and deep, and that Aragorn's heartbeat, slower and more resonant than his own, was louder than the howling of the wind. 

\-----

Lothlórien was a place of beauty such as Frodo had never seen before. Pale staircases wound their way up into the trees, beyond sight, dripping with soft lights. Even the leaves seemed to shine faintly. 

And yet, here in this fair land, he could only feel grief. He had known Gandalf since childhood. The loss of the wizard was like the removal of his foundations. Suddenly all his hope was slipping away, for though Aragorn and Boromir were strong, they were yet Men, and did not have a wizard's skill. And surely it was a wizard who would be needed to lead them into Mordor itself, into the shadows, to the flame. 

Aragorn came to find him on the second day, as the sun was westering. "Come with me to the hill of Cerin Amroth," he said, and Frodo took his hand, allowing himself to be led. 

It was a long walk, but full of beautiful sights, and the music of water rang ever in their ears, a humming, murmuring, babbling stream that seemed to haunt their steps. Finally they climbed upward, still led onward by the sounds of the stream, to the top of the hill, where a spring bubbled merrily out from the ground, forming a good-sized pool at the top of the hill before falling over the edge to dance its way down the hillside. Frodo could not quite determine if it had been built by the Elves, or was simply natural. 

The water was cold when Frodo dipped his toe in it, but it was clean and fresh. He carefully tugged his clothes off, laying them on a dry rock to the side, including the Ring on its chain, and Aragorn followed suit, watching him carefully. 

Frodo threw himself into the water, which was so shallow at that end that Aragorn could have easily sat down in it and still kept his head above water, but which was just deep enough for him to stand on his tiptoes without needing to tread water. The bright shock of it surprised him, woke him up. He went underneath for a moment, dunking his head, then raised himself up, and Aragorn sent a light splash of water his way, giving him a quick smile. 

"Grief is heavy to bear," Aragorn said, coming close, wrapping his arms around him, and sinking into the water. "Let it go for a moment, that you may bear it the easier."

Frodo turned in Aragorn's arms, wriggling like a fish, and kissed him. The water was still cool, but in Aragorn's arms, Frodo was warm and safe, alive and, for the moment, at peace. 

\----

The Quest was over, and at times, Frodo could almost scarcely believe it. The heady hour of reunion with all the Fellowship was almost too much to bear, and once they left, one by one, he lay back, exhausted just from a few moments of joy. Happiness, after so long in the dark, caught in the wheel of fire and unrelenting torment that the Ring had become, felt like too much, like the bright sun appearing after days of darkness. 

The room was dim and cool, the bed comfortable beyond measure, and he was alone, without fear or pain. He closed his eyes, letting the contentment soak into him slowly, easing himself back into life. He had been ready to die - more than wishing for it, more than wanting it - but he had reached up and found life waiting there for him. 

He must have slept briefly, for when he woke, it was to Aragorn sitting beside him, staring off into the distance. There was a look about him that Frodo had never seen on his face before. Though he still wore the familiar clothes of the vagabond that Frodo knew, he was kingly and beautiful, but more remote, the healer rather than the lover. 

The look only lasted a moment, until Aragorn glanced up and realised Frodo was awake. 

"Come here,' Frodo said, throwing back the coverlet with an inviting gesture, then patting the bed beside himself. 

Aragorn smiled - a sober, measured kind of smile - and sank down beside Frodo, who curled into his side, wrapping an arm over his chest. "Will you go home to the Shire, then?" Aragorn said. "You could stay, if you wished." 

It was as if just mentioning the Shire unleashed a dam of emotion inside Frodo: he remembered Hobbiton, the Party Tree, the little hills and rivers that he loved. After the Ring had gone into the fire, the Shire was the first thing he had recalled clearly, and the memory of it was beyond all else. He suddenly longed for home, inexpressibly, without stint or measure. 

Some of this must have shown on his face, for as he formed the words to articulate it, Aragorn pressed a finger to his lips, very gently. "I see," he said, "and I understand. Of course you must go home." 

"Yes," Frodo said helplessly. "And I know - you cannot come with me." 

"No," Aragorn said. "No, I have a duty here. But stay, stay for a little while, until you are stronger."

"I will," Frodo said, and then, as Aragorn made a move as if to get up, "no, stay, stay for a little while." 

"Until the morning," Aragorn said, and wrapped his arms around Frodo as though he would never let go.


End file.
